


If Only we Were Written in the Stars

by MeinNameIstJette



Category: FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy XV, Kingsglaive
Genre: Coffee, Constellations, Deep Conversations, M/M, More tags later?!?!?!, Star Gazing, Tea, ignoring work, maybe sexy times?!?!?!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 08:46:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18688084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinNameIstJette/pseuds/MeinNameIstJette
Summary: Sometimes long conversations under the stars can give new perspectives and weaken resolve.





	If Only we Were Written in the Stars

Titus had made it a point to keep all relations at arm’s length, and to the very minimum, because if he wanted to reach his goal, he couldn’t afford any complications. Or, at least that had been what he wanted to do. 

And, Drautos could easily admit that besides his Glaives, he had been doing a fairly good job. 

However, what he thought to be a fairly flawless plan, began to kink, to turn and curve in all the ways Drautos absolutely wanted to avoid. Those kinks, turns and curves all had one name linked to them -- Cor Leonis.

The man was a conundrum in himself and when the Kingsglaive had first formed, he had been certain that the Immortal disliked every visible and invisible part of him. This is why he never expected anything to come out of interacting with the man besides cordial exchanges regarding their specific work. 

Which... So happened to coincide on most days. 

Of course, keeping it professional would have been too simple. Obviously when two people are working so closely together, it would lead to some sort of friendship. Even if Titus refused to call the Marshal anything but a work colleague. Even that was pushing it at times but he could see the way certain members of his Glaives snickered when the Marshal came by or if Titus was missing from his office.

It was mostly easy to ignore the fact that they gravitated towards each other. Or, that clearly there was something there that seemed to tighten the bond that Titus fought so desperately against. He had managed to convince himself that the occasional coffee or tea breaks and even the few times they had gone out for drinks, was nothing more than needed camaraderie for a job well done. That it wasn’t a weakness to crave this, to want to interact with the man, to ignore the pain from his past, no matter how tight the scars of his past grasped and squeezed at his heart. No matter how many times he was reminded in his sleep of what had been lost and by whom. 

Physical war had nothing on the blitzkrieg of emotions pounding away at his resolve. A translucent pathetic sheet that had once been called a fortification. 

The real problem was that no matter how many times Titus pulled away, the Marshal wiggled his way back in. It was as if the man knew the exact words he needed to say, the exact way he needed to approach Titus, and gods… the right way to look at him. 

It was one of those instances, late at night, when the Marshal comes to Titus.

He had remained holed up in his office, a sad excuse for an office, one to match the sad excuse of training grounds the Glaives had been given. Titus had, of course, not complained about it especially with how pathetically they’d been funded in the first place. The training grounds had been a godsend, if anything. 

Currently, he sat hunkered behind his desk with a great pile of reports, notes, and a laptop settled at the corner. Perched on his nose was a set of reading glasses that he had gotten for himself at ‘a gil for less’ store. 

The light in his office perhaps a little too bright for Titus’ eyes but the more involved he became with the Kingsglaive, the more he was realising that there were very particular reasons why they weren’t being funded properly. If the political climate of Insomnia alone was anything to go off of, Titus was certain that many councilmen held the same opinion as that of their general population: which was not favourable . His anger at such an injustice always seemed to conjure up the faces of the recent Glaives that had lost their lives for a people who cared very little about them. It was those thoughts at the forefront of his mind when Titus hears a knock at his door. 

He glances up only to arch a brow high up at the sight before him. 

The Immortal himself, standing almost awkwardly at his door, with two mugs of some sort of hot liquid. By the aroma, it must be tea. 

“I thought you could use a break.” The Marshal greets with a slight nod as he steps further in and places the floral mug onto Titus’ desk. A part of Titus couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Immortal’s supposed dry humour rearing its head. 

“Marshal.” Titus greets as he eyes the tea. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?” 

There’s a small uptick to Cor’s lips before he’s taking a seat on the only chair that didn’t have paperwork crammed onto it. Titus can’t help but note that the man somehow fit well there even though there was no reason for him to think that. 

“I was getting myself a tea for a late night of work and then saw your light was on so decided to get you one as well.” Cor explains, his gaze drifting around Titus’ ill decorated office. 

A part of the Captain could never help himself from wondering if the man was always suspicious of him and that was the real reason why he came by or invited him for the occasional beer. “I see. Very kind, Marshal and now that you’ve delivered it, I won’t keep you from your work.” 

It was almost as if Cor hadn’t heard his words because the man straightens in his chair and leans forward. Titus swears the Immortal is sporting a conspiratorial look across his features which, Titus hates to admit it, captures his attention. 

“Have you ever been up to the top of the wall in the eastern squadron of Insomnia at this time of the night?” 

This catches Titus off guard. That was the last thing he expected to slip past the Marshal’s lips and a part of him can’t help but humour the man even though Cor had clearly said he was planning a late night of work. They both were but, judging by the odd feeling in the room, work was not what either one of them would end up doing, no, it would be something much more interesting. Something very dangerous. Dangerous for Titus, maybe less so for Cor. 

“No. I haven’t.” Titus answers as he raises his mug up to his lips and takes a hazardous sip. 

He brings the mug down, lips thinned. The tea was still much too hot. 

The conspiratorial look on the Marshal’s features seems to disappear and he’s nodding solemnly as if Titus had told the man bad news. Titus’ brows furrow together as he watches the Immortal intently, waiting for the man’s, most likely, ridiculous suggestion. Most believe the Marshal to be a very diligent and hardworking man (which was true) but Titus was slowly discovering that he had quite a playful mischievous side to him. 

“Unfortunate, they say you can see most constellations perfectly when up there at night.” 

Constellations…? 

Once again, Titus’ expectations of what should be normal for this man, is blown right out the door. A part of him had been sure the man had been intending to say that right behind it was a great place to run training drills without having to worry about crown property. 

“Are you suggesting we abandon not only our tea but our work in favour of looking at some stars?” Titus can’t help the incredulous tone that slips into his voice at his clarification. 

The Marshal’s lips pucker momentarily before he shrugs. “I was suggesting we take a break somewhere less suffocating.” He’s glancing around Titus’ office with an arched brow. 

Titus gaze falls on the report he had been reading before he’s pulling it back up to meet Cor’s vibrant eyes. He slowly closes the report and lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Show me these stars, Marshal.” Titus exhales with a shake of his head as he slowly starts to get up. 

In that moment, the Captain misses the small pleased smile that appears over Cor’s lips. It disappears quickly enough and Titus only makes note of Cor’s nod as he also gets up and abandons his tea so he can step out of Titus’ office.


End file.
